The final campaign

The final campaign

The small group moved smoothly and quietly along the corridors of the old abandoned palace, following the path shown by the feeble candlelight.



Hidden under black capes, three sets of eyes took in their surroundings.



The high ceilings were adorned by nightmarish figures whose empty orbs seemed to follow their every move, their teeth bared in a snarl. The torn red drapes that adorned the windows, and must once had been awe inspiring, reminded them of fresh blood gushing from the cracked walls.



The silence was heavy, almost palpable. Even Keith, the youngest and loudest member of the party, was unusually sombre, deeply aware that any false move would undoubtedly result in certain death. Unconsciously, he turned to Mika, seeking some comfort in her cool demeanour; she seemed strangely unaffected by the gloomy atmosphere, but, then again, he couldn’t remember ever seeing the quiet sorceress lose her composure. Faith, on the other hand, seemed ready to jump into battle, her eyes were scanning their surroundings quickly but efficiently, her right hand unconsciously clenching around the hilt of her sword.



A small smile appeared on his face as he remembered the day he had asked her why she had decided to become a warrior. He was only a novice at the time, having just begun his training at the temple, and could barely hide his amazement at the idea that a woman, or anybody for that matter, could choose the fury of a battlefield over the peace of the temple.



He was almost expecting her to dismiss the question, after all she had more pressing matters at hand than wasting her time with him, but to his surprise she looked straight into his eyes and simply said: “Because this is who I am.”



At the time, her answer hadn’t made any sense to him, but now, he knew what she meant; an eagle may desire a quiet existence, but, as hard as it may try, it could never become a sparrow.



A sudden loud crash broke his reverie. Pushed by invisible forces, the imposing oak door at the end of the corridor opened, slamming fiercely against a rusty suit of armour that fell in a clangour of metal and lost dignity.



A small cry escaped his lips as he cursed himself for allowing his thoughts to run free in a moment like this. To his left, Mika silently gestured for him to be quiet, while Faith thrust him in a small niche behind a pillar.



For a few interminable seconds, an eerie silence seemed to permeate the air. Then, slowly, a chanting began. In a blur, Faith unsheathed her sword and took a defensive stance, while Mika began a chant of her own in the desperate attempt to stop what seemed inevitable. Keith quickly stood behind his companions and put his hands on their shoulders, acting as a catalyst between the two of them: allowing the warrior’s energy, raw and powerful, like a raging flame ready to leap and consume, to merge with the calm steady flow of the sorceress’.



It was a delicate moment. A slip in concentration, and their energies would lose their cohesion; one simple mistake, and their lives could be lost.



The apparition was sudden, if not unexpected. When the dark-clad figure materialized in front of them, even Mika seemed to lose some of her composure. When he spoke, his voice was little more than a whisper, but somehow, it seemed to reverberate in their heads. While the words were foreign to them, the threat in his tone was quite clear.



Faith’s reaction was immediate. Sword in hand, she charged the menacing form only to be stopped by Mika’s hand.



“Don’t allow impetuosity to impair your judgment, my friend. This is only an astral projection. Our enemy is still in there.” A lithe finger pointed at the door in front of them. As on a cue, the figure shimmered for a few seconds and disappeared.



A lifted eyebrow was Faith’s only reaction. Her trust in Mika was unshakable, and, despite every fibre of her body shouting at her to attack, she relaxed her stance and turned to the older friend, looking for guidance.



With a tiny nod, Mika acknowledged Faith’s compliance, and proceeded to explain the seriousness of their situation. “I won’t lie to you, because the first lesson a sorcerer has to learn is that knowledge is power. Our enemy is much stronger than we suspected. To create such a perfect illusion requires an amount of energy that only a few wizards can muster. On the bright side, he needs to focus all his powers on the ritual, which means that, for a short timeframe, he will be pretty much defenseless. That opens a small window of opportunity for us. If we are quick enough, we may be able to take advantage of his weakened state, if we fail... I don’t think any of us needs to be reminded of what is at stake.”



The impromptu speech was followed by complete silence and small nods of acceptance from the rest of the party.



When Faith spoke, there was determination in her tone. “We need to coordinate our attack. I will take care of him, while you and Keith destroy the book. Without it, he won’t pose a threat to us, and I’ll proceed to royally kick his a—”



Faith’s speech was cut short by a strangled scream at her left. She turned quickly, only to find Keith doubled over, holding his mid-section. In her many years of experience on the battlefield, she had seen and heard her share of horrors, but what was happening before her eyes, shocked her to the core.



Keith’s face was deformed by pain, his teeth exposed in an horrible grin, his eyes flaming with a red glow. Then, without warning, he attacked them. His movements were feral, his attack showing no evident pattern. To all effects, he was like a beast that reacted on pure instinct.



Before Faith could shake herself from her bemused state, she was swept off her feet by a powerful blow that sent her slamming against the wall with a sickening sound of crushing bones.



Mika’s reaction was faster than anybody would have expected from somebody who was not accustomed to hand to hand combat, with a precise swat of her staff she hit the creature (for even her logical mind couldn’t accept that what stood before her was their young and kind companion), eliciting a long howl and a snarl.



The distraction was enough to allow her to cast a protection spell around the body of the fallen warrior. She didn’t allow herself to think that now it all rested on her shoulders, concentrating instead on the task at hand.



A single drop of sweat formed on her brow. The amount of energy she had spent to counteract the wizard’s spell had left her weakened, and trying to fight Keith while maintaining the spell on Faith was draining the last of her energies. She knew that reversing the spell would require way more power than she could spare, and that meant one thing... With an heavy heart, she steadied herself and prepared to kill Keith.



What followed was like a blur: blows were exchanged at extraordinary speed, blood was drawn on both sides. But in the fury of the battle, none of them seemed to care or even take notice.



Then, unexpectedly, a low kick swept Mika off her feet, and suddenly the creature was on top of her, restraining her wrists with his left hand, while drawing bloody trails on the sorceress’ skin with the right.



He prepared himself to deliver the final blow, feeling a sort of giddiness at his victory. Slowly, he raised his hand and stared into his enemy’s eyes. He wanted to see her squirm. He wanted to feel her succumb to his power. He wanted respect. What he saw, though, stopped him in his tracks. Where he had expected to see fear and defeat, there was only a look of infinite sadness and something else he couldn’t place... His mind started to reel. He had expected hatred. She should loath him, curse his name, not look at him with...compassion, that was the word.



He felt something pulling at the back of his head, and suddenly everything came back to him: growing up as an only son, not wanted, and certainly not loved, by his parents; the day he joined the monastery, the only place where he really felt accepted; and the first time he met Mika and Faith, who became his friends and mentors. With a confidence he had never felt before, he took the short blade he always carried on his side, and, with a last glance at his friends, he ran it through his own heart. Somebody shouted.

If it was Mika, Faith or himself he couldn’t say. Then darkness enveloped him, and his lifeless body hit the ground with a thud.











***











“What the Hell was that about Keith?”



He jumped at the voice. How could he possibly hear the warrior’s voice? He was dead after all!



“Yeah! I was going to use a repelling spell. There was no need for you to do that. Now we have no way to defeat the wizard!

If we can’t merge, we stand no chance.” Mika’s eyebrows twitched slightly, like they always did when she was upset or, well, pissed off.



Keith lowered his head in shame. He had forgotten himself, and had been swept completely in the game’s atmosphere. The gesture that only a second ago had seemed so brave and selfless, now appeared to him under a different light.



“It's official. I’m a complete moron!” he thought.



“Well, we have no time for this now. We still have a fight ahead, even if it is, at this stage, more a suicide mission than anything else.”



With a slight sigh, Faith stretched out her hand and grabbed the dice.